


Love Me, Love You

by littlestdeath



Series: Love Me, Love You [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Boypussy, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestdeath/pseuds/littlestdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is generally okay. Sometimes he hates himself, and it’s probably not healthy that he doesn’t talk about it, but what with all the nearly dying at least once a month, he figures his monthlies can take a back seat for now.</p><p>And that works right up until the moment that Derek starts flirting with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me, Love You

**Author's Note:**

> I intended for this to be a short, dirty little thing to add to the boypussy sub-genre of the TW fandom.
> 
> Then it angsted on me. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> There will probably be a follow up at some point. Until then just let me know if there needs to be more tagging.
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles loved sex. Not that he’d ever had it with another person or anything, it’s just, well – the internet is a wonderful place where a curious teenager can buy sex toys and have them delivered in ‘discrete, nondescript packages that won’t rouse interest’. So, yeah. Stiles, after getting his first dildo, was all over that whole sex thing. All he lacked was the other person part of the sex equation.

Technically, a penetration-virgin he was not.

Tragically, a penetration-by-another-person-virgin he was probably doomed to remain.

As much as he enjoyed getting himself off, Stiles didn’t really see anyone getting off on the body that Stiles had. He had done enough poking around on the internet to determine that his body was uber-rare. Rare enough that there wasn’t even a full Wikipedia page on it and the porn was practically non-existent. He tried not to think about it too often. An entire lifetime without someone to sex him up was depressing. He tried to keep himself distracted, but it was hard.

Boys talk in the locker room. They talk about what a girl cuming looks like and how wet she is on the inside and how tight this girl or that girl is and how irritating it is when she says ‘no’ just because she got her period. They talk about how they’ve got blue balls and how morning wood is such a pain what kind of porn they watch to get off and no, really, dude, it’s at least a quarter inch longer today.

And Stiles will slip into a bathroom stall, pull down his underwear and stare at his fleshy cunt, pubic hair slick with his menstrual fluid. And he’ll wish desperately that he wasn’t a boy, that his body hadn’t formed so wrong in his mother’s womb. Sometimes he’ll wish he hadn’t been born at all.

So. Stiles has bad days.

His masturbation always feels good, he can work himself over until he’s coming again and again, until his inner thighs are fucking drenched, but that terrible feeling of wrongness doesn’t ever go away.  

So when Scott gets bitten, it’s an excellent and ongoing distraction. One can only dwell so long on the depression of being born feeling like a boy on the inside and looking like one on the outside except for having a vagina and a uterus and ovaries while people are dying and/or in mortal peril. For over a year Stiles can shove off the lingering darkness, can watch Scott and Allison’s volatile relationship with fond exasperation, can watch Boyd and Erica’s inevitable hook up with honest delight, can watch Lydia and Jackson make up and move on with an aching heart and a real smile.

But eventually, watching everyone pair up- even Isaac with a cute human girl who probably won’t last- starts to wear on him. Occasionally, in the bliss of their own relationships, one of them will ask: _What about you? Don’t you want to find someone?_

The answer he gives them is: _I am much too busy with school and werewolves right now. I’ll find someone when the time is right_.

The real answer is: _I do, but I can’t because I’m a freak. I want to get pounded in my pussy by a big thick cock, but only gay boys want someone who looks like me and I don’t have the right parts for gay boys. I have the right parts for straight boys, but I’m a boy and straight boys don’t want boys. No one could ever possibly want me and that kills me because I want someone to love me and I want someone to love_.

And what hurts the most, what really digs the knife deep, but he won’t ever admit -not even really to himself- is how now, when he masturbates, all the imaginary men that have him on his back or on his knees look an awful lot like Derek.

 

^

 

Stiles is generally okay. Sometimes he hates himself, and it’s probably not healthy that he doesn’t talk about it, but what with all the nearly dying at least once a month, he figures _his_ monthlies can take a back seat for now.

And that works right up until the moment that Derek starts flirting with him.

 

^

 

Stiles has been flirting with Derek for nearly six months. It’s the end of his junior year and Stiles is two months shy of being eighteen.

Stiles has been flirting with Derek in his own way, just for funsies, because he seems to be a masochist. He banters and back talks and teasingly insults and is basically shamelessly pulling Derek’s proverbial pigtails because Derek has grown as a person and now;

Derek is handsome and strong and surprisingly kind and a good Alpha and patient and has a dry sense of humor and he cooks breakfast for the pack every weekend morning and gave Isaac the safe-sex talk because he admitted his father never did and he tore down the old house and left a monument in its place and built a new house far enough away so that he wouldn’t look at it all the time and he made sure there were a dozen bedrooms so they could share or not share as they wanted/needed and he’s going to pay for Boyd to go to college because he needs the insurance money from the fire to go towards something good and not just for himself and it’s so fucking obvious how proud he is when Erica gets a good grade even if he says something noncommittal and he pushes Lydia constantly to be the best she can be and he’s affectionate with Jackson because he can see how fucking badly he needs it and he awkwardly tries to give advice to both Scott and Allison alternately depending on who did the breaking up that time and he never ever ever gives Stiles crap when he can’t stop talking or shaking because he’s been up too long and had too much Adderall and can’t fucking stop because he’s too worried about his father and the pack and about something horrible happening.

And what the fuck is Stiles supposed to do in the face of all that?

So when Derek starts to flirt back Stiles is instantly tense. He goes to Lydia and Erica and Boyd and asks for their opinion just to be sure he’s not making this up in his head and they all confirm it; Derek is totally flirting with Stiles.

So Stiles runs away.

 

^

 

Well, he doesn’t actually run away. He wasn’t going to just disappear on his father; he’s invested far too much in the man’s heart. He just does the next best thing; he avoids Derek as much as he can. And Stiles is fucking creative, too.

Naturally everyone gets concerned by this. There are various attempts made to solicit an explanation; applications of caffeine, alcohol and bribes of chocolate at the fore, with asking, begging and direct threats of bodily harm following soon after. All the time Derek looks increasingly bewildered, increasingly annoyed and sometimes, when no one but Stiles- who sees everything about Derek- is looking closely, he looks increasingly hurt.

But there’s nothing Stiles can do. He shouldn’t have flirted in the first place. He had never seriously thought he had a chance. And now that Derek was showing interest, Stiles was stuck feeling awful knowing he was either going to hurt Derek’s feelings by continuing to avoid and reject him, or get his own feelings hurt when Derek saw his body and was inevitably disgusted and rejected him.

And then there were his terrible fears that Derek would tell the pack and they would know his secret and be grossed out, or horrified or kick him out for being a freak. Not even Scott knew, and how would he feel knowing that Stiles had kept a secret like this from him all this time?

No, he wouldn’t let it happen. He would just avoid Derek until he got the message and then apologize for leading him on, grovel for forgiveness and do his level best to just forget all about it.

 

^

 

There was a part of Stiles that knew he was being irrational and illogical. But from the first time his parents had sat him down and explained how important it was to keep it a secret, that if anyone knew they would all make fun of him and hurt him and not want to be his friend, Stiles has been so scared of it happening.

And now it was so close to being actualized that he was beside himself with fear and panic.

He could hardly think, let alone think clearly.

 

^

 

It didn’t surprise him when Derek showed up in his bedroom one day. He’d been expecting this visit for weeks. He’d been agonizing over his speech for nearly as long. But seeing Derek standing there made all his memorized points fly away.

Stiles burst into tears. He couldn’t say anything but ‘I’m sorry’ over and over and over again. He gasped and choked and sobbed on the words. When Derek reached out to sooth him he pulled away, backing up step by step until he was against the wall by his bedroom door, the same one he had slammed Stiles up against so many times in the past. He sank to the ground and clutched his folded legs to his chest, burying his face in his knees.

Eventually his tears stopped, and his sobbing petered off into painful hiccups. When even those too went away Stiles looked up, red eyed and puffy lidded. Derek was sitting cross legged on the floor a few feet away. His red eyes were fixed on Stiles. His expression was the careful blank one he used when he was feeling one thing, but needed to be the Alpha and do or say another.

“We need to talk about this.” He said quietly.

“Don’ wan’ to.” Stiles voice sounded scratchy and his throat burned.

“There is something wrong Stiles. Something past just… me misinterpreting your behavior and acting in a way that… made you uncomfortable.”

And of course Derek thought it was his fault that Stiles was pulling away. Stiles should have realized that. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own fear he would have seen that. He could have leveraged that to both assure Derek and keep him at arm’s length. Too late now.

“Stiles, please.” Derek held out a hand slowly, as though he was afraid Stiles would move away from him again. “Please. What can I do to help?”

And it was so like Derek to say that. Not prying for information like some would, insisting he needed to spill his guts. Not offering him misplaced and useless advice or condescending platitudes. Not telling Stiles what to do or what to feel. Just asking what Derek could do for Stiles to help.

And Stiles found himself spilling his guts about it all, about how he feels like a freak and how he’s always been afraid of how he’d be rejected and the times when he wished he hadn’t been born at all because that would have been better than being born the way he was. He talks about how his parents had told him over and over to keep it a secret so he knows how ashamed they were of him and how ashamed he was of himself for being the way he is. And about the way the boys in the locker room all through middle school and high school talked about being a boy, liking girls and the changes in their bodies and how he couldn’t relate because even though he was a boy he also _wasn’t_ a boy and he didn’t have anyone to talk to not even Scott because his _mother_ had told him not to tell and how he knew, _he knew_ , that no one would ever love him because he was born wrong and there was nothing he could do to change that. And so he couldn’t let there be anything between him and Derek because then Derek would have to reject him because he was a disgusting, shameful thing and Derek deserved better than Stiles and he was so, so, so sorry, he should never have started to flirt with Derek, it was just that Stiles couldn’t help himself, he just liked Derek so goddamn much, but now that it was like this he would do better he would keep it to himself, and Derek didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

When he was done, voice raw and broken from all the crying and the talking, Stiles didn’t look at Derek. He couldn’t.

“Thank you.”

The words made Stiles snap his head around to stare at the Alpha.

“Thank you for telling me.” Derek said and rubbed a hand over his face. “I- I’m glad you told me what’s been weighing on you. But Stiles I-” he faltered, “I don’t actually know- you never actually said what about…your body it was that made you feel this way. Would it… would it help if I knew?”

For a long time, Stiles stared at Derek’s open and slightly concerned face. Then, wordlessly, he stood and gestured for Derek to follow him to the bathroom. There, under the bright and unforgiving lights, Stiles took off his socks and then his shirt and then his jeans. Standing in just a pair of baggy boxers he begged, desperate;

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Derek promised he wouldn’t and Stiles let his boxers slip off his hips and down to the floor. He hung his head in shame. Derek’s breath hitched and Stiles flinched. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists and tucked his shoulders up by his ears. He waited for Derek to express his disgust.

“Stiles.” Derek said softly. “Please. Look at me.”

Stiles does and he’s confused. Derek looks…weird. He’s never looked like that before and Stiles is too deep in his own head and emotions to figure it out.

“Stiles, there are a few things I need to show you. They’re back at the house. Will you come with me?”

Dumbly, Stiles nodded. He didn’t know what Derek needed to show him before he sent Stiles away, but better to get it over with now instead of dragging it out.

“Okay. I’m going to get you a glass of water and then we’ll go. I’ll be downstairs.” After a lingering look, he leaves Stiles alone.

 

^

 

Mechanically, Stiles gets dressed and then goes downstairs to drink the water Derek hands him. Numb, he follows Derek out to his car, not even really aware that he’s barefoot.

When they get to the house, it’s empty. The strangeness of this rouses Stiles from his stupor.

“Where is everyone?”

“I texted them and asked them to leave. This is between you and me.”

In the house, Derek leads Stiles to his bedroom. It’s big, with a large bed by the windows and a soft looking arm chair with a reading lamp behind it tucked in the corner. On the small side table beside the chair is an e-reader tablet. Derek picks this up and pops it off the charger. He spends a long time tapping at the screen. Stiles watched the clock. Nearly ten minutes go by. Then he hands it to Stiles, seemingly done.

“I sorted through all the ones I have. There’s not much anyway; not really a big market for it. The first one is my favorite, and the next two are ones I think you need to read. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done, okay?” He waits until Stiles nods, and then departs.

Stiles examines the tablet in his hand. It’s open to one of Derek’s ‘shelves’. He nearly drops it when he reads the title Derek gave this ‘shelf’. He reads it a second time and a third time and then fourth and fifth. It doesn’t change, the letters starkly real in black on a white background-

**Boypussy**

Sinking into Derek’s arm chair, Stiles opens the first one. The _favorite_.

It’s pure filth. There’s barely any set up, just a rushed introduction of a bar scene at closing time, rapid fire naming of each character with a list of their most attractive physical attributes and then a quick cut to the beefy bartender’s place where the pale twink followed him to for some sexy times.

And it is nothing but sex. Dirty, lustful, purely wanton. Nothing but dirty talk and begging and squelching noises and powerful thrusts. And all through it the bartender praises the twink for his wet, pink, tight little boypussy. He loves that pussy; fucks it and cums in it and then licks and sucks and cleans it out, makes the boy drink his cum and the twink’s own juice out of his mouth.

Stiles is panting by the end of the forty-three pages, his own boypussy throbbing. He can feel his hole gapping open. He pulls up the second e-book.

It’s another modern one, this time with more story. It leads with Chase, a teenage boy who after the untimely deaths of his parents was taken into the home of a sexually abusive foster-father, Butch. The sex between them makes Stiles cold. The way Butch talks about Chase’s boypussy is cruel and humiliating. It makes Chase ashamed, and Stiles by association. Then Chase meets Ray. And Ray makes Chase feel like he’s worth something again. The sex they have is actually lovemaking; tender, with kisses and sweet words and Ray assuring Chase over and over that he’s beautiful and perfect just the way he is, that Ray would love him no matter if he had a pussy or a cock. The story ends with Ray getting a job in a different city and taking a just-turned-legal Chase with him.

Stiles wipes the tears from his eyes and opens the third one.

It’s a dystopia, set in a world after a nuclear fallout. The government one generation later after the disaster, in an effort to keep the human genepool strong and weed out the weaknesses caused by the radiation poisoning, declares a military state and passes laws that allow anyone with any kind of deformity- physical, mental or sexual- to be imprisoned. It’s surprisingly well written; making neat parallels to Nazism, it scolds those who would shun others because they’re different.

The story starts two generations after the beginning of the military state and follows Qail, a boy who likes other boys, struggles with depression and has a vagina where he should have a penis. The world is presented as a fearful one, everyone terrified that someone will accuse them–rightly or wrongly- of being deformed. Ashamed of his deformity and full of despair, Qail struggles with his inborn disgust of himself and the inevitable rejection of all his friends and family members who don’t know once they find out.

Without any treatment for his depression and because of the isolation caused by keeping secrets, Qail comes close to suicide. He is stopped by Zin, a man who is part of a movement to overthrow the government and end the military state. Zin eventually reveals to Qail that he prefers men and that his sister, who had preferred women, had been imprisoned and then killed a few years ago. Slowly, as the group moves ever closer to its chosen coup day, Zin and Qail fall in love. In the final chapter Qail, emboldened by the momentous event, reveals his ‘physical deformity’ to Zin, and talks about his depression and own desire towards men. The two confess their love to each other and kiss. The book ends on a high note of hope and a bright vision of the future.

Stiles has to wipe the snot on his sleeve. He didn’t know what to think now. His perception of himself had been shaken up and he didn’t know what to think anymore. He was staring blankly at the final page when he suddenly noticed something different about it.

There was a highlighted note on the last character of the story. The little pop-up for it tells Stiles that Derek made it while he was standing there picking each of these stories for Stiles to read. After a moment’s hesitation, he taps on it. It’s only four words, but they make Stiles tear up so quickly he goes blind and has to blink his eyes to make the tears fall so he can read them again with clear eyes.

 _I think you’re gorgeous_.

 

^

 

He finds Derek in the kitchen just like he said he would be. When he enters, Derek is already standing. Stiles is more clearheaded than he has been in days. He looks at Derek and can see the tension in his whole body and understand that it’s Derek’s fear of rejection showing. Stiles licks his lips.

“So.” He says, faux casually, “You want to go out for coffee sometime?”

Derek’s eyes crinkle up, his dimples showing a little as he smiles one of his rare smiles. Derek’s just fucking beaming at him, and Stiles thinks he falls in love with him all over again.

“Yeah. I would.” Derek says and reaches a hand out to Stiles.

Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s, and smiles back.


End file.
